A Study In Gray
by Ms.Redrum
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is half elf half human. He was cursed by a witch after proving her guilty of luring children away with a candy house and eating them. Now every full moon he must change form into something horrifying and dangerous. Joan Watson is terribly and blandly human. After being shot while serving in the army she gets sent home to live out a dull existence.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay soo... yup**

The girl ran through the forest that covered as far as the eye could see, jumping over bushes and ducking under fallen trees. She was only able to see a few feet in front of her due to the thick fog that rolled through the forest. Her legs hurt from the constant strain as she forced herself to keep running and not to collapse under searing pain radiating from her back and the throbbing from her injured leg and shoulder.

She'd been walking home from her therapist's office, _(she never said anything to the man, it was pointless to go in the first place) _back to the hospital she was being forced to stay in until she healed completely when a dark van squealed to a halt in front of her.

That was the last thing she remembers before waking up here in a cell strapped to a bed.

As she ran through a tall bush she was nearly taken out but a taunt metal chain across her path. She had already dodged several booby traps ranging from spiked pits to metal wire snares, so it was no surprise the traps would get larger in number the closer she got to the edge of the forest. She woke up chained to a bed and the deepest metal box underground that money could buy it was a sure bet that they would keep her there by any means necessary.

She skidded to a stop mere inches from the chain ( she knew just by looking at it that would have definitely cut something open if she had hit it, one side having been sharpened into a deadly jagged edge.), panting for air she almost didn't hear the growling over her need for oxygen. Spinning around she came face to face with the largest dog she had ever seen; it towered above her short frame.

She lifted her hands and muttered "Good doggy, nice doggy." over and over again as she backed away slowly. The 'dog' rolled its eyes making her stifle a laugh, knowing it would come out a bit hysterical and she was trying to hold in her meltdown till after she got away from the crazy git chasing her.

_'Oh god they must have dosed me with something.' _

The 'Dog' growled at her before its head snapped to the side as he sniffed the air. She paused in her escape as it listened intently to something in the distance. The smell of dark magic drifted closer and closer through the fog making Joan's face scrunch up.

She knew exactly who was coming and she refused to stay here and wait for him. She started to move but the giant dog whined making her pause again.

"What's wrong with you, don't like the smell either?" She asked eyeing the 'dog'. It answered her with a growl before pawing at the collar around its neck. She looked uncertain for a moment, so much could go wrong, yet so much already had what difference would it make if she saved the dog.

Wolf, she decided, the large dog was more like a giant wolf, its sleek gray fur shinning off the moonlight. Its pale blue eyes shinned bright as he studied her in an unnerving manner.

Letting out a frustrated growl she marched over to the newly dubbed wolf. "I swear to the goddess if you bite me I will smite you." She hissed. The creature let out an amused huff of air before lowering down to her level, lying as flat as it could so she could get a good look at the clasp on its collar.

She reached out tentatively and grasped both sides of the collar between her hands. She gasped, gritting her teeth to keep silent, as it let out a current of electricity strong enough to burn her hands. She ripped the collar off and flung away before cradling her hands to her chest. The palms of her hands were tinged pink, barely a little stinging. It was her fingers that hurt, the flesh an angry red, they throbbed.

The wolf (though she still suspects it's something completely different.) whined at her in a curious tone.

"It's fine, just a little sore." She murmured moving back slightly, forcing herself not to flinch when the movement caused her hands to brush together. "Well your free, better run before he finds you again."

It nodded before turning, disappearing in the fog like one would sink into water, just a flash off its fur before it was gone.

"Right well, that was odd…" She remained there for only a minute, her mind distracted by the strange gray furred wolf.

Turning she headed off into the trees again running as fast as her legs would carry her, her leg throbbed in pain as an old wound began to get irritated and she knew if she didn't get out or find somewhere to hide she would collapse and he would find her and she'd end up locked in that cell again.

She spotted a clearing through the fog and made to avoid it knowing it would be dangerous and tacitly unsound to cut across it, she came out of the trees on the edge of a cliff too wide to jump across and too deep to climb down; she knew if she tried to jump it she would most likely end up skewered by the large sharp spikes at the bottom.

Cursing she turned and headed towards the clearing, she looked around looking for any sign of movement and listened for any sounds. Upon hearing nothing and only being able to see a distance of ten feet in front of her she started forward moving as silently as she could.

A sharp laugh broke the silence.

"Thought you could get away from me lass?" The loud thick accented voice boomed in front of her. A short man with graying hair and piercing green eyes stepped into the clearing. "And ya let the dog out too." He laughed.

She flinched back, her back burning as she remembered the pain the man inflicted on her, they had been looking for something, but she didn't have a clue as to what it was.

"Yes well, he didn't seem to enjoy the collar much." She said to him while her eyes flicked around the clearing looking for a way around him.

"No 'e didn't I imagine, though it was for everyone's safety you know, can't have wild animals running about killing innocent people."

"Is that why I'm here?" She asked curiously. She didn't remember much from before she woke up strapped face down on a metal bed and a knife digging into her back.

"Not at all, your here because your interesting, and he does love the interesting, he almost squealed in excitement when he saw you take that knife without a sound, such exciting dangerous creatures always make him happy and boss likes his toys happy." He said with a large grin on his face and a crazy gleam in his eyes.

"Who is he?" She asked backing away.

The man laughed stepping forward. "Doesn't matter, I'm just the man that has to keep ya here." He said watching her amused. "You know this reminds me, we 'avn't properly introduced ourselves, you can call me Hope." He says taking a bow.

"Joan, I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but really it's not." She says spotting an opening and taking it, she sprints forward dodging around him. She realizes too late that it had been a trap _{Gave me an opening so I would take it without hesitation, distracted me with information about his boss, fuck}_ as his arms wrap around her waist and she starts to struggle.

"Now now Joan, it's not very smart to struggle with the man that's holding your life in his hands."

* * *

He knew he had been lucky that the girl had stumbled across him. If she hadn't he would have been stuck there for a long time, chained to this forest like a dog wearing a shock collar.

He had been expecting someone _{Smelled her, honey and toast, orange marmalade, wood chips, gun metal… interesting}_, had expected someone completely different , not the petit woman with mousy twin braids trailing down her shoulders _{Letting it grow out after having the same hair cut far to long for her liking} _that came sprinting out from the thick bushes. _{Eyes too large and blue for the haunted look in them, irrelevant}_

He couldn't help feel a little bad for her, he could smell the blood on her clothing _{inflicted recently by scalpel, purposeful, looking for something, strange} _and had seen the way she limped slightly _{knife wound, old, combat knife, psychosomatic} _and the way she favored her shoulder from an old wound _{bullet through the shoulder, nearly bled out, but there was something strange about the wound, further examination required}_, not to mention the burns on her hands now from pulling the collar off him_ {Didn't make a sound, used to holding in signs of pain}_

Not only that but she was interesting, he could tell she wasn't human _{something in the way she holds herself}_, that left the mystery of what she was, a strong fighter _{army, the muscles in her arms suggested intense training} _medic _{steady hands, even when in pain, no especially when in pain}_, brave _{her stance when finding him suggested she would fight him If necessary though she knew he would have won, she went so far as to threaten to 'smite' him, also a clue she wasn't human}_. All that added up to something interesting to him.

He was second guessing leaving her behind, she was weak from blood loss and might not last much longer if that man found her, then her interesting story would be gone leaving him without answers.

Growling he turned around and followed her scent back the way he had come. As he neared the place where her scent was strongest he heard the sound of a struggle.

"Get off me!" He recognized the girls voice, it sounded panicked and pained.

"Joan stop this, honestly." A man's voice said, high and cheery. He knew that voice too. When the clearing came in sight a low growl ripped itself from his throat. Hope was sitting on the girls back, knife in hand while she struggled under him trying in vain to get free.

"Fuck you!" She hissed thrashing again.

Hope tisked, bringing up the hand holding a large pink pill he placed it against her closed lips. "It's nothing personal luv; I just have a job to do."

He lunged, crashed into the man and tearing him away from the girl. He growled tearing into the man's arms as he tried to fight him off.

"Bad Doggy!" Hope shouted summoning strength from the runes under the earth. Ones that Sherlock had missed noticing.

* * *

Joan rolled as the body on top of her was knocked away. She sat up and couldn't believe her eyes, the wolf had saved her.

"Bad Doggy!" Hope shouted and the clearing they were in erupted in a bright red light {Dark magic, he's using it to gain strength!}, Hope sent the wolf flying. Joan rolled to the side as a sharp whip of magic was sent her way. Once back on her stomach she placed a foot under herself and stood up, wobbling a bit as her leg protested.

Hope raised the sickly pink whip high over his head; the look in his eyes was pure insanity.

Some part of her reached out unconsciously forcing her body into firing stance, legs set apart slightly, hands out stretched as if holding a gun. A black murky tendril of light manifested itself in her palm in the shape of her trusted {and currently missing} Sig; the pain of its manifestation is dull and unnoticeable under the other aches of her body.

She doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger, doesn't stop to question her strange new ability, all she is aware of is the need to save. A bright light, the same molten gold as the manifestation of her healing ability, bursts forth leaving a trail where it cuts through the fog.

The last thing she saw was Hope jerking forward as the bullet entered his body above the heart {too close to not be fatal}, and a glowing pair of gray eyes watching her before she vision sharpened then went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Forcing the change was never easy. It hurt to have his bones snap back into human shape. The searing pain of his fur receding back into his body and the stretch of his flesh as it molded itself back into his tall lanky body was like setting himself on fire.

He lay panting for a moment as he waited for the pain to abate. He was glad that the curse let him experience the change with his clothes, it would be a very awkward meeting if he introduced himself whilst naked.

The sound of a broken wet cough brought him out of his thoughts and he noted that Hope was still alive, but not for long and Sherlock needed answers. Dragging himself to his feet he stumbled over to where the gray haired man lay bleeding in the grass.

"Who hired you?" Sherlock asked standing over the man. The man ignored him, opting to spit blood at Sherlock's shoes instead.

"Who. Hired. You?" Sherlock growled, this time stepping on the man's wound causing him to cry out.

"M-Moriarty!" he cried; blood splattering across his face as he did so.

"Who's Moriarty?" Sherlock asked adding more pressure to the wound.

"I don't know, we never saw his face." The man whispered before the light faded from his eyes.

"Pointless." Sherlock huffed; removing his foot from atop the man's fatal wound. He looked towards the smaller body lying in the grass and moved towards it.

Joan lay passed out spread eagle in the grass as he sat next to her. He would wait for her to wake up, he had so many questions to ask her.

One very important one thou, that he knew he would need to ask first.

* * *

"How do you feel about the violin?" a sharp baritone voice asked drifting through the haze of grogginess that clogged Joan's head.

"What?" She groaned opening her eyes. She lay on her back in the grass staring up at the stars in the night sky.

"I usually play when I think, and I'm up at odd hours."

"What?" She asked again.

"Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." The voice to her left said again. Moving her head so she could see who could possibly be talking nonsense to her. A tall lanky man was seated next to her on the grass, his gray-blue eyes stared down at her calculating and sharp.

"Who… no wait the eyes… your that wolf right?"

"Excellent deduction… Sherlock Holmes is the name." He said sitting back and staring across the clearing towards where she remembers Hope being when she shot him.

"Thanks?" She said with uncertainty. "Joan Watson." She said sitting up next to him. Even sitting he was taller than her.

"So how are you feeling?" Sherlock asks her while picking at his purple button up shirt. She can't help but to wonder where it came from. _{maybe it transforms with him}_

"What do you mean?" Joan asks him rubbing at her still stinging hands.

"Well you did just shoot a man." He says blandly.

"I did, didn't I… well he wasn't a very good man was he?" She shrugs.

"No I suppose not." Sherlock mutters before grinning.

"What?" Joan asks curious, this was a man that didn't smile often she could easily guess by the frown lines on his face, deep and constant.

"Nothing…" He trails off staring at her for the longest minute before his eyes snap to the left towards the fog rolling in. "I was thinking about how I should contact my brother, it just occurred to me that I needn't worry he's already here." He says pointing into the fog that surrounds them. "You can come out now Mycroft!" he calls. Before Joan can say anything _{Like ask him what he was going on about} _a swarm of men in black riot gear spilled out of the fog.

"Sherlock, must you always be so reckless?" A man said stepping out of the fog, umbrella hanging off his wrist and three piece suit too immaculate for him to be standing near the dead body of a maniac. _{which he just poked at with his foot}_

"You're late." Sherlock snarls. "You were supposed to be keeping an eye on them, so why is it they managed to steal an army Capitan out from under your nose, while she was still in a hospital no less."

"How-" She starts to ask but he cuts her off. She has a feeling it's going to happen often if she sticks around.

"Your tan line doesn't go above your wrists, you have a psychosomatic limp but that doesn't mean you didn't actually have a wound there, knife wound, combat knife and the way you favor your shoulder from an old wound, bullet through the shoulder, nearly bled out, but there is something strange about the wound, further examination will be required." He pauses taking a breath before continuing again.

"Not to mention the burns on your hands from pulling the collar off me, didn't make a sound, the muscles in your arms suggest intense training, army Capitan, and medic, steady hands, especially when in pain, your stance when finding me suggested you would fight me If necessary, though you knew I would have won, you went so far as to threaten to 'smite' me, also a clue you aren't completely human." He finished with flair.

"And you wonder why people don't like-"

"Amazing!" Joan exclaims cutting Mycroft off. Both boys stare at her in shock, Mycroft looking slightly more amused than Shocked.

"Really… that's not what people usually say." Sherlock says slowly.

"Yeah, what do they say?" She asks curiously.

"Piss off." Joan can't help herself; she starts to giggle uncontrollably. Sherlock grins before he too has fallen into a fit of giggles.

"Oh dear." Mycroft sighs. "Do you two realize where you are, it's no time to be giggling, we need to leave." He snaps turning on his heel and making his way back into the fog.

"Come on, don't want to be left behind." Sherlock says jumping to his feet, turning he holds his hand out to her. "So Joan, about that flatshare?"

"God yes." She says taking his hand.

* * *

"Sherlock, that man Joan killed, he said something to you… what was it?" Mycroft asked. Keeping his voice low as to not wake up the sleeping Joan; snoring away in a chair next to Sherlock's on Mycroft's privet plane. Sherlock glared at him for a moment before heaving a sigh.

"I asked him who hired him." He grumbled crossing his arms.

"And what did he say?" Mycroft pushed, knowing his brother would fight him.

"He didn't tell me." Sherlock growled pointedly looking out of the window. Mycroft could see he was lying but decided not to push further until he wasn't trapped on a small plane with his brother _{Who would probably crash the plane out of spite... then again the interesting case of Joan Watson was on board so maybe not}_. "How did they know about your curse?" he asked instead.

"No idea, then again it isn't really a secret is it?" he spat startling Joan. She jerked awake looking around blearily _{Worried, confused by the sudden loud noise, tired}_. "Go back to sleep Joan." Sherlock muttered to her. She looked at him a moment _{Trusting… how very interesting}_ before resting her head against his arm and slipping back into sleep. Mycroft stared at the strange scene with a look of amusement.

"Shut up!" Sherlock hissed; this time keeping his voice low.

"I didn't say anything." Mycroft said innocently.

"You were thinking it."


End file.
